I do not own 'Batman Begins' or 'The Dark Knight' or any of the characters… sadly.
Please Review! This is my first story on here!
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The life of a secretary was not glamorous or clad with jewels and beautiful people. Sherisse DuMarc knew this so well that she could not help but wonder as to why it couldn't be different. There were so many secretaries who spent all day filing their nails and indulging in less than moral acts with their bosses that Sherisse wondered as to why she could not be one of them. They were glamorous with their long soft bleached white-blonde hair, pencil-thin bodies and fake cherry red lips. Surely there was no place for a woman with skin-tone makeup, a short curvy body and bright orange-red locks.
So while Sherisse actually filed papers and arranged computer data, they gossiped about who was the hottest of Mr. Wayne's employees and how they envied his flavor of the week. As much as Sherisse wanted to fit in, she had no interest about who Mr. Wayne happened to be 'digging into' that week.
In all honesty, she had never enjoyed her job at Wayne Enterprises. The only thing she loved about it was seeing the soft white glow of the 'Wayne' sign, atop of the building she worked in, winking goodbye to her, on the train to home at twelve at night. Being a full time law student and working a late time secretary position didn't leave her much free time. However, riding the train was her time to do as she wished; read, eat or look out the window at the world that was buzzing on without her. When she arrived at her cold flat at night, she had to study and feed the cat and fall asleep in front of television, only to wake at eight the next morning and begin her monotonous routine over again.
As for love, the short woman had been delaying it. There had been boyfriends in high school and she had several men ask her for her phone number on the train before. However, it seemed while in high school, she planned to find love in college and while in college, she wanted to find love outside school all together. Her procrastination of love didn't help her status with the other secretaries around the office. Some of their fingers were clad with large diamonds they could never afford off their own salary but off the money their future husband provided them with.
In regards to friendship, it was quite simple. She didn't have any friends except for her small orange tabby cat as red as her hair. However, this cat often only looked to Sherisse for a meal and then would disappear for days at a time. Her friendship was limited to this one organism that lacked conversational skills. Still, Sherisse lacked much more. She lacked the ability to connect with others well. She was personable, charming and witty yet she couldn't find anyone to talk to longer than a solid five minutes.
This ritual life had been occurring so long that Sherisse never expected that any of it would end so suddenly.
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"Ms. DuMarc!"
Sherisse snapped from her daydream and then snapped her head over to the mail boy who stood in front of her desk. He was short and his hair was never quite combed enough, considered the clearly visible cow lick on top of his head. All around her, people scuffled about, the secretaries answered phones and chatted secrets back and forth to one another. Sherisse felt as if she were in her own void however. She remained in a sweet silence when she managed to glance out her window. The boy's sharp and harsh tone only made her more irritable about her situation. The oak desktop was cleanly and neatly arranged much like its owner.
Sherisse's high red, almost orange ponytail was pulled back tight on her head, revealing her angular features and cat-like green eyes, which eyed the disheveled boy who clutched at his cardboard box of telegrams and letters. Her gray, fitted turtle-neck and emerald green pencil-skirt were not as revealing as the attire most secretaries wore which included too tight suits and seven-inch high heels. She looked as neat and put together as a new country club resident or restaurant owner, or maybe even her own desk. The boy cleared his throat,
"Mr. Stout wants to see you."
He shrugged and then left after throwing a single letter on her desk, scattering her precisely placed papers. Sherisse paused, shaking her head the boy and lifting the letter to arrange her papers once more. She picked the letter up and tore it open with her thin fingers.
It was her brother's letter, his monthly one that he insisted on sending to her and not their parents. He had always been some what of a mystery to the DuMarc family, a puzzle if you will. Sherisse was the only one who could connect to him or make heads or tails of what he rambled on about. She smiled at the many memories she had made with her brother. She leafed through the lengthy letter, a solid four pages about his 'stay' and then folded and placed it in her large purple Gucci tote bag by the side of her desk. She couldn't read it here, not at work.
The office was slowing now on this Monday morning. The small rush that once embodied her surroundings slowed. Sherisse had finished her filing and typing and was seemingly waiting for a phone to go off. She had been debating whether or not it would be appropriate to start her homework. Although her Bar exam was still very, very far off, there was not a day that Sherisse did not imagine passing it and being free from reception work.
She knew she would have to face Stout sometime but she tended to avoid her boss as if he were the plague. Stout was not one that she enjoyed the company of, regardless of the many times he chose to hit on her. The other secretaries would use this to their advantage and perhaps gain a higher position in the company… perhaps gain access to Mr. Wayne himself. However, Sherisse could never imagine doing Mr. Stout any 'favors.' She knew that this small talk would be about just those… 'favors.'
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"I'm being fired…"
Sherisse never expected to be here, sitting in this white-wash room next to a woman that resembled a trashier version of Kiera Knightley and her boss, not Mr. Wayne, but the man who wished he was. The woman shifted next to her uncomfortably as if she was unsure as to not why she had to be there. She wore too much eye make-up, Sherrisse decided inwardly and she held her tongue from saying so. She was not pleased with the appearance of her soon to be replacement. It was obvious as to why she had been 'impressive' during the job interview. Sherisse repeated to Mr. Stout, who coughed loudly, "I'm being fired..?"
Mr. Stout was a man in his late thirties, doomed to be underneath Bruce Wayne's foot his entire life. Sherisse was fairly positive that he spent majority of his time alone. He had a large nose that distracted anyone from looking at the rest of his face. He was bald, alone and unsuccessful but not because of Bruce Wayne. Everyone knew that his personality had enabled him.
"Why… uh... yes." He slowly spoke back, as if he were addressing a five year old.
Sherisse whirled her head around the room, first to look at her large-nosed boss then to the wannabe model then back to the Mr. Stout. She tapped her small black leather flats against the white tile flooring out of sheer anger. She looked down to her non-painted fingernails and bit her lower lip, hard. She asked hollowly,
"Why?"
Mr. Stout fumbled for the answer for a moment and then obviously finding one, mumbled,
"Mr. Wayne appreciates your hard work but wants someone with more time to dedicate to the company… you're a full time student, Ms. DuMarc. The only reason Mr. Wayne agreed to hire you was that he owed a 'favor' to your cousin's industry, 'DuMarc Industries.'" Mr. Stout now stood; the taller, spidery woman joined him. He told her slowly, "You may pack your things."
She said nothing. Sherrisse, even as a child, never debated much. So she said nothing as she cleared out her desk and the prying eyes of the secretaries around her snipped at her heels. She said nothing as she slowly took out her high ponytail on the train and glanced out the window for the last time with a small sigh.
She said nothing as each individual letter of the 'Wayne Enterprise' sign loomed over her farewell like the plague and she opened her dismissal letter which she received the next day in the mail.
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"I just cannot understand as to why you cannot keep a job. Your cousin, Cecilia never had a problem_"
"I'm not Cecilia, mom." Sherisse desperately tried to explain to her mother over the phone. "Heaven forbid I don't inherit a major corporation at age twenty-two." She said. The eggs on the skillet were burning and Sherisse knew that she shouldn't have tried to cook breakfast while trying to speak on the telephone to her mother.
Elaine DuMarc was a widower of six years now and her only concern was her two children. One of which, Sherisse's brother, had been labeled a lost cause in her mother's mind and the other, Sherisse, was 'troubled.' She was terrified woman now, living in her large home alone with two dogs and one car. This car was rarely used due to the fact her mother did not go out to town. Elaine had never enjoyed being alone until after her father died. In Sherisse's mind, her mother, her real mother, was dead and buried with her father.
"Well, have you started looking for another job yet?" Her mother snapped once more over the receiver. Sherisse rolled her eyes, tossing out the burnt eggs in her tiny sink. She grimaced as she watched the yellow ruins rinse down the sink slowly.
She was not enjoying this morning already. Her bright red hair was tousled and her black pajamas were ruffled, her phone would not stop ringing and her cat was meowing impatiently for dinner. Her mother seemed to be the blood red cherry atop of the mound of shit she had to deal with. She said slowly,
"Yes, I have."
She bit her lower lip,
"I thought I would try to be a receptionist at this small law firm, opening up down the road. I have an interview there, this afternoon." 'Down the road' in Ghetto Gotham was too unsafe to walk to and Sherrise had been avoiding the place since it opened, which in truth, had been some time ago. Yet the paper 'Receptionist Needed' sign stamped on the inside of the firm's window was too tempting now. She would have to deal with working in one of the worst parts of Gotham in order to stay in school. She continued, "Since I am studying to be a lawyer, I thought I could use the experience."
"You can always use your father's name in getting a job!" Her mother's soft voice, yet distant voice chimed in the middle of Sherisse's statement. Sherisse paused, twirling around her kitchen, opening the fridge door slowly and glancing inside. She needed to think about what she needed in the grocery and get her mind away from her father.
Her father, Wade DuMarc, dead and buried, had been one of the best lawyers that Gotham had ever seen. He had been a shrewd man that Sherisse had known very little about. She didn't have the heart to tell her mother that father used a different last name when he practiced. The mystery of this decision was present within the family. Her mother had known but had forgotten in old age of the name change. Her brother now chose to use this last name as well.
Sherisse moved from where she had been leaning against her stone counter top in her small kitchen to her even smaller bedroom. She bit her lower lip and then nodded slowly as her mother rambled herself off into some sort of different world. Then suddenly a question was now posed to her,
"Who runs the place? Who is the practicing lawyer?"
Sherisse managed to hold back a laugh. Modern times allowed more than one practicing lawyer to reside in a firm but her mother's mind was obviously going.
"Dunno, some man… named Harvey Dent."